Alliance
by Nightlover77
Summary: Panem hit its high point years ago, since then that incline has hit a fast decline. The first rebellion, the bombing of thirteen, and the games have given the citizens fear instilled from birth, it was time for a change. That's where I come in. I am everywhere and nowhere all at once. I am the chameleon paving the road to the rebellion. NOT EDITED YET. DECEMBER DANIELS
1. Chapter One: The Capitol

**THE CAPITOL**

 _"Glistening buildings in a rainbow of hues towering into the air, the shiny cars that roll down the wide paved streets, the oddly dressed people with bizarre hair and painted faces who have never missed a meal. All the colors seem artificial the pinks too deep, the greens too bright and the yellows painfully to the eyes..."_

 **-The Hunger Games**

* * *

The train pulls to a stop and I hold my ground standing at the door staring at the capitol creations outside. Though at the moment I was no better then them. My hair was stacked high on my head in an atrocious multitude of colors laced with live butterflies. A large white flower sits on the right side of my head adorned with pearls and a veil of gauze over the right side of my face. My natural skin and lips have been dusted over with a bright white powder making me look deathly ill. My eye shadow and red and white striped originating from the corner of my eye and bright purple lashes draw sights on my artificially yellow irises and pink whites. My ears hold silver hanging earrings made of multiple small silver balls that also create a necklace that is wrapped twice, one long and one short circling my neck. My outfit is a dress that hugs tight on the top with a boat neckline, three quarter sleeves and a bell bottom with gauze to maintain the skirts volume. The entire material is made of latticed rainbow glitter strips. My shoes are fluorescent blue and sit on a platform heel of seven inches, making my already tall height sky high.

In total I feel and look utterly ridiculous to a normal person, but here, this is considered beauty and it's paying off. I catch eyes of both men and women adoring and hating on my style choice, most just jealous not to have the attention on them.

"Would you care to join me for a cup of hot chocolate, it could...warm you right up!" The woman's peach colored eyes stare at me possessively. She beat the others to reach me and has staked her claim. This was one of the most important unspoken rules of Capitol citizens, if you can't have the attention, join it. Once you join the attention will not only be on the eye catcher, but on their acquaintance too, you.

The woman's skin is tinted a mustard yellow, with makeup of orange and yellow lining her eyes and lips. Her long orange tresses are pulled into three braids that line the crown, middle and back of her head all matching the flouncy orange dress that ended at her knees and is only subdued in volume around the waist where a thick yellow ribbon holds the material down.

"No, thank you, Miss. I do believe I have somewhere to be." Even though my manners are something most don't possess in the capitol, my denial has the man scoffing and turning without a goodbye. "Thanks for the invitation." I mutter out. It's funny how the facades fall away as soon as they don't get their way.

I continue down the streets distracted by the colors and sky high buildings all around me until I reach the small fur boutique I was searching for. The shop windows are primarily made with beads of glass distorting the interior designs into bulbous figures. I open the door and the crystals chime over head in a dainty call for duty. The tune is lovely, but the last thing on my mind as the person for my visit comes into view.

Her orange tinted and tattooed skin blends with her tiger fur hair implants nicely. When her eyes land on me her feline orange irises show knowledge of my identity even though I wear a disguise and her flat black nose seems to twitch as though she's smelling the air. Her lips twitch into a smirk making her whisker implants dance at the movement and her shoulders glide back under her purple velvet shawl to look more regal.

"Tigress, my name is Rosamund Demure. I am here to inquire about some feathers my friend ordered." She grins and moves her arm out in a graceful guiding motion.

"Right this way, Miss Demure." Her voice is a purr, clear sign that she had her voice box altered. She guides me to the back of the store where a large dressing room sits, secluded from the eyes in the store. She looks at me with another feline smile and kicks the rug aside to reveal a latch. I suppose all cats are smart. We walk down the stairs quiet and careful not to slip then turn to each other with only two feet between us..

(Leaving the store unattended may be a problem in some districts, but here in the Capitol the people want to spend money to show off their high standing; stealing was simply not a possibility here.)

"It has been long since we've spoken. What have you to tell me?"

"Snow has become a hermit as of late. He regretfully does not visit the café, the victors, or even his granddaughter's dances. He does however remain a daily visitor to the manors rose garden." The roses...

"He is panicking, something has disturbed him. What could it be?" I turn and pace while trying to rack my brain for information when I come up empty for now I turn back to my informant. "How are Cinna and Portia?"

"They still hold their loyalties." She already knew where I was going.

"Good, do you have those feathers?" She nods and walks across the basement to a rack of stylish garments.

"Yes, here you are." She pulls out a chrome caddy decorated with rhinestones galore.

I open it quickly to check over the supplies then nod at the anxious tiger. With business complete for now she leads the way to the stairs again, peaking out slowly through a crack when we reach the top so we don't draw any unwanted attention. When the coast is clear she swings the door open and climbs the stairs swiftly and quietly with the agility of a cat and I follow with only a bit less grace.

The shop is empty now all customers gone giving us a sense of security knowing we are in privacy. I turn to face the tiger one last time as I reach the door my face stern, it was time for the closure.

"May the power be returned."

"May the truth be seen."

This saying was also a test. Had she not been on our side mentioning the Capitol's betrayal in our farewell would have drawn out her true feelings through her speech and eye contact. Tigress held firm, sealing the deal with another ally. And with that I'm gone.

* * *

 _ **Hey guys,**_

 _ **Hope you enjoy! If you want to see the photos of everyone in the book check out my Wattpad and Quotev. Both are under the name Nightlover77.**_

 _ **DECEMBER DANIELS**_


	2. Chapter Two: District 1

_"District 1 makes the luxury goods that decorate and beautify our great Capitol. Its excellent taste and craftsmanship keep Capitol residents bewigged and bedazzled year-round."_

 **-The Hunger Games: Tribute Guide**

* * *

The goal was to slip in and out of this district without drawing too much attention. Now that I'm looking around there might be a greater need here then I thought possible. This time I'm dressed slightly less 'fashionable' then when I was in the Capitol. I used the item that Cinna left at Tigress's for me. My hair is a deep rouge reaching my shoulder blades in outrageous large curls, the color offsets the pink tones of my skin. My eye lids host a deep red drawing the piercing gazes of the district people to my emerald tinted gaze as I strut down the street. My fingers are decorated with three rings on my left hand and two on my right, all with gems set in them, and complimenting the long red nails placed on my fingertips. My dress is a red silk halter held up by thin gold cordage that grips my body and blows the hem past my knees as the winds whips against me. My long makeup toned legs are accentuated by the three inch gold stilettos on my painted red toes. Cinna chose well. As I walk the summer sun hits my shoulders; if this skin was my true color I would be burning red fast. At that thought a fabric is laid over my shoulders. It is light allowing the breeze to soak through, but thick enough to 'save' my skin from a burn.

"You must protect that creamy, velvet skin. No man likes leathery skin." He sticks his hand out for me to shake, bit when I don't move he grabs my hand begins to lay kisses on my skin. "The name is Harley Bomb, you can call me H-bomb. What is your name, Petal?"

The man is smaller than my height, but his tall dark tower of hair gives him at least five inches. His outfit was not as bizarre as the Capitol, but it was close. He was in a sweater vest that was a died salmon pink wool with bows climbing up the back of his spine increasing in size the closer they got to his neck. His pants were silver and baggy with diamonds running up the seam, knowing district one they were probably genuine gems. His shoes a pink loafer lined with silver and his makeup minimal with only contorted making him seem both stylish and sickly. I take it back, maybe he's visiting district 1 from the Capitol.

"Lace Mercier. Thank you, for your care, but my man likes my skin tanned." I start to take of the cloak when something slides it off for me.

"That I do." A large figure presses into my back and with the look on H-Bomb's face tells me I have found my ally.

"Augustus, I did not know. . . have a good day." He grabs the fabric from the larger man's hand then scurries away and I wait until his figure disappears behind the corner before I face the man behind me.

"You scared him." I cross my arms and raise an eyebrow at the amused look on the victors face.

"We have much to talk about." He directs me to one of the many benches that surrounds the giant gold statue of the Capitol seal in the center of the district. He gestures for me to sit first, but my scowl makes him sit before me.

"How have the birds been adapting, Braun?"

"They are nesting outside of their windows and flying back to relay the talk. Were the Jabberjays your idea?" His gaze startles me and I turn to look away while I speak.

"It was a group effort."

"I see." His eyes still pierce my being.

"What talk have you heard?" Time to change the subject.

"Cashmere has been in the Capitol for the past month with one client...Gloss is getting nervous. The bird outside his house comes back screaming insults to Snow." The favorites are unwinding.

"Do you think we have a chance to grab him while he's down?"

"No, he's still loyal to Cashmere."

"Then we might need to target Cashmere next. I know your are close to the siblings, try and stay around them more, draw them in without letting them in on anything." I smirk thinking of the power duo leaving Snow for the birds. The man across from me scrunches his face as he scans my body.

"Red suits you." His eyes flick to mine and his voice is graveled.

"You know none of this is actually me." I scoff, he always tries to sweet talk me.

"It was worth a shot..." He let's his voice quiet and his smile drops becoming serious for the first time since we met. "Am I ever going to see the real you?"

"Not part of the job, Gus." I tense up feeling this going another way.

"I know... But I don't even know your age, your looks or even your name." His eyes hold an emotion that I can't decipher and that scares me. If I can't read people that could kill me.

"Do you have the tapes, Braun?" He shakes his head to come back to Earth then reaches for his leather satchel pulling out a red clasp.

"They're all here." He hands in over and I snap the clip to peak inside without showing the contents to the cameras and peace keepers. There are about two dozen small tapes jammed in the small purse all labeled with different names.

"Good." I stand up and turn with a nod only to be caught be the wrist and turned around. The 67th victor looks troubled as he speaks the words that harden my heart further. "May the power be returned."

"May the truth be seen. Be safe. I'll see you soon." I can't give reassurance, I never know when things may go wrong, so I stare into his eyes watching him relax knowing he saw something there that I didn't want him to see.

"Goodbye, Augustus Braun."

* * *

 **Tall, tan, muscular, blonde hair, blue eyes = Augustus Braun**

 _ **R &R! Follow me on Wattpad and Quotev, Nightlover77.**_

 ** _DECEMBER DANIELS_**


	3. Chapter Three: District 2

_"One cannot overestimate the power of persistence. It is persistence that guides a stonemason's hands and causes mighty castles and temples to be built."_

 **\- Jeff Wheeler**

* * *

Against all popular belief district two does have mines that most of the lower class works in. The difference between these mines and others are that they are further stabilized by technology from district three. Today I'm going in the sapphire mine to find our unlikely ally.

My clothed are the typical district two black overalls with a white wife beater and heavy grey over coat. My hair is a deep chocolate that is held back in a tight French braid so my vision won't be obscured while swinging my pic. My skin is an olive tan with deep brown eyes matching my hair.

The environment could range in temperature resembling ice or fire and even though the walls and ceilings are reinforced a mine is still a mine so dangers are expected. Today the air is damp and cold making some of the skinnier, more fragile miners hack and sniff at the onset of sickness. The sounds of metal against stone echo down the tunnels and the grunts of a familiar voice grace my ears. I speed up my pace and stand next to the man of hulking figure. His blond hair is slicked back from sweat that drips down his face, neck then slips into his stained wife beater. His muscles are strained giving away that he's been at it like normal. His overalls are coated I'm dust and his boots have a light layer, though your can see that he has polished them recently, having that instilled after years of being a peacekeeper. I reach the place to his right, raise my pick swinging down hard to break the stone.

"Find your own, Digger."

"That won't work for me, Hadley." His pick stops mid swing while I follow through with my own, not taken aback by his demeanor.

"You're early." His voice is a deep bass holding no sign of how he's feeling. Sometimes it's like talking to a team bomb with him.

"It's mid day, same time as always." He nods in acceptance, this was probably his first time check since starting work at five this morning.

"So..." He leans to look at my chrome name hook on my shirt that every miner must have before they enter in case we are in a accident and they can't recognize our bodies. "Terra Bedford, this name suits you."

"What have you heard?" We continue to swing so the peacekeepers don't stride over with their all knowing eyes and hover to make sure we are working. That would be an end to my mission and a waste of time.

"Enobaria has joined." My head whips to his, we never expected to get someone so high up.

"You trust her?"

"She tried to save my son."

That's why he's in the mines. His oldest son, Titus, was killed in the 61st Hunger Games as the third to last tribute. Invictus Hadley couldn't face the fact he had let his arrogance encourage his son to enter the Hunger Games, and the despair he caused on his wife's face. He quit his job as head peacekeeper and now spends as much time as aloud, twelve hours, in the mines, just to stay away from the pain.

"That doesn't answer my question?"

"I'd trusted her with my son's life, I trust her with our work." Even though the boy didn't escape the games it showed that it was not of the mentors lack of trying.

"Good. I'll check in on her in the coming weeks, give her fair warning." he nods taking in my words then raises the pick to hit the wall and send chips flying through the air.

"How far along are you on the gold?"

"I have the first three pieces done, all different like you requested." He slips an item in my pocket that I'd look into later.

"I'm impressed. What of the guards, do they still remain loyal to you?"

"The older ones do...the younger ones believe I betrayed them now. Octom has been telling lies." Octom is the new head peacekeeper. He was a rival of the Hadley's oldest son, Titus. He took that hate out on Invictus, but could only go so far because the head Hadley was the young man's boss. Now that he's in charge nothing could stop him from targeting the family and ripping them from the district's good graces.

"We'll get on that." No one could ruin this mission. "What of Brutus?"

"Brutus is in too deep." I had never expected any different from the bristled victor.

"We never expected much from him. How is Lyme?" Lyme has been with us since the beginning and she was the man ally I would meet in district two, but she is under stronger surveillance over the past months and it's become safer to hear from her indirectly.

"She is gathering." She had been doing this slowly over the months since the games end so we can slip under the radar.

"What are our numbers looking like?"

"Two hundred fifty." Lyme is a miracle worker.

"That's one hundred more than last month. Good work, we need more though."

"You'll get 'em." I let my axe rest at my side and lean against the metal handle staring deeply at the ally before me. "You're a good man, Invictus."

"This gave me the chance to be, Terra." His eyes show all the truth I need. I look away quickly to scan the halls for others then turn back and whisper proudly, "May the power be returned."

"May the truth be seen." This was a man that we were truly blessed to have on our side.

* * *

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 _ **DECEMBER DANIELS**_


	4. Chapter Four: District 3

_"Engineering is the art of directing the great sources of power in nature for the use and convenience of man."_

 **\- Thomas Tredgold**

* * *

I sit in a room over come with was darkness only brightened slightly by the unnatural lights from the screen resting on the crime and glass table in front of me. I'm silent as to not alert any people passing by as I continue my search for information.

The mirrored face of the screen shows the reflection of my new disguise. I wear a tight white turtle neck that chokes my throat. My platinum pixie hair appears purple absorbing the fluorescent blue from the screen. My yellow green eyes are dulled by the clear head piece that encircles my head as googles and a mic. The screen of the chat room reflects in the plastic displaying the exchange between Didgitex and Beetee.

Didgitex: How are the wires?

Beetee: Withstanding dozens of bolt strikes.

The bolt strike that he's talking about is the strike of a lightning bolt. (We can't speak point blank if by chance someone's stumbles upon our conversation.) One lightening bolt contains one hundred billion volts of electricity. The copper wire the brilliant man has created maintains its starting condition after more than twenty four billion volts.

Didgitex: How is our precious Wire?

Beetee: Terrified of every new day. The paranoia is getting worse with the news.

Didgitex: Tell her Didget's going to work for it. What is the stance?

Wiress was one person who knows the real me. She was my strength when I was young and when she started to be over taken by the paranoia I stepped in to save my friend. Wiress was an enigma. Most see her as being out of her mind, but the part of her old self is still in there and when it shows through it always leaves me amazed. though she faces criticism I would do anything for that crazy woman.

Beetee: With.

Didgitex: Tech?

Beetee: On the way.

Didgitex: Eye her.

Beetee: Always.

Didgitex: May the power be returned.

Beetee: May the truth be seen.

The program is exported and destroyed, just in time too. The handle jiggles and someone knocks on the other side.

"Hello. Open up!" The voice is that of a woman and it is more than a bit annoyed. I check everything over one last time before rising and walking to the door, flicking the lock and pulling it open.

"I'm sorry, I suppose the lock was triggered again." My face is split in a large smile and the brunette dressed in the same outfit as myself stands scanning my face, trying to place me.

"Your name?" Her voice is gruff for a woman.

"Didget Pex, Ms. Lumen." Studying the area's people and building architecture are two of a pair for this job. "Your hair looks quite slick today."

She blushes at the compliment and hides her face a bit most likely used to being the boss and beating down people giving her only poor feelings from staff. "Yes, well, thank you, Ms. Pex. On your way."

"Have a sparking day, ma'am."

If ever your plan doesn't go with your point, turn up the charm and your free. I continue down the hall to the main factory area, clip board in hand. I sketch and write about the buildings layouts of windows, doors, and machines. Then take the population, count of production and last views of the workers. This is the common data taken from the factory districts.

There were windows lining the top of the walls hitting the ceiling. Two doors one entrance to the work area and another to the hall leading deeper in the factory to the higher rooms. The population rests around 2,300 assembly line workers. The rest of the building hosts another few hundred. And this is only one of the twelve factories district three houses.

The working conditions aren't as brilliant as they once were, but in total they are treated as the workers the Capitol needs. One thing that always bothers me when I visit district 3 is the people's demeanors. They are nearly as robotic as the machines they make. Every movement is calculated and precise, along with every word and emotion. But their choice to act like this keeps the Capitol off their backs until they are back in their housing units.

That's where I first encountered Wiress. She told me the trials of her games in her times of clarity and it's hard to believe she stayed lucid as long as she did. Through the loss of who she was could also be from a rare genetic disease affecting short term memory, making conversations difficult and new inventions impossible to create alone. That's why she has Beetee though. Beetee was Wiress's mentor and at the ages of seventeen and twenty-five the games were real, but impossible to change. When she returned Wiress and Beetee had the discovery of their lives, their families were gone. Snow didn't like how Beetee and Wiress performed during the games and showed his displeasure by disposing of their loved ones, they only had eachother. Over the years they took care of eachother and friendship grew. Even through Wiress's struggle of staying in the moment there was always one person keeping her in the moment, Beetee.

No matter how close the people of this district are to my heart my third stop is complete, time to move on.

* * *

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 _ **DECEMBER DANIELS**_


	5. Chapter Five: District 4

_"Do you like seafood? Shrimp and crabmeat? Often overlooked, District 4 plays an essential role, bringing us the bounty of the sea. These citizens are adept with nets and tridents, and can swim like fish themselves."_

 **\- The Hunger Games: Tribute Guide**

* * *

I kick hard and stress my arms to push the water away and behind me, propelling my body through the water. Any other time and place I would be wearing a full scuba gear; flippers, oxygen, and a wetsuit. But because district 4's people are close to being human fish mutations wearing anything other than a bathing suit and regulator would have drawn too much unwanted attention. My hair is a wavy blonde lightened by the sun and salt. My skin is a tantalizing sun kissed tan on display with the two peice bikini that hugs my body. My eyes are a cerulean lined by natural dark long lashes and draws the eyes with the help of a soft jaw and sharp cheekbones.

The waves crash on the reefs and rocks sending small drift to push the life to follow them. Fish of every color, shape and size house this area of unmarked crystalline territory. The sea is clean of disposable materials and remains a healthy deep blue. Rocks start to over take the reefs making a path for the rock field ahead of me. The giant stones jut up and out of the surface making the area a danger zone for boats, therefore free of human life. Quickly the rocks decrease in size and frequency to reveal a small circular cave inlet. I guide my body through the tight area sometimes pulling on the ridges to get through at the small spots. The area expands and I swim naturally again until the surface becomes visible. I swim hard up needing to take in something other than filtered water. My head breaks the surface and I grab the breathing device from my mouth taking lung fulls of the salty unfiltered air.

"I see you're still cheating." His voice is full of amusement, but his laid back attitude always puts me on edge.

"Not all of us are fish." I swim to the edge of the cove and start to climb the rocks to reach the sandy flat top where he sits.

"Whoa there tiger." He rises and stands offering a hand.

"Wrong ally." I grasp it and he hauls my dripping form out where I shake to get some of the dampness off my body.

"So what do I call you today." He sits down again lounging against the large boulder.

"Coventina Daytide."

"So you took my advice of sounding more...water related." I'm silent and so is he knowing that I had done just that. He reaches into his trouser pocket to pull out his water proof pouch that holds his usual snack."Sugar cube?"

I nod taking one then swishing it around in my mouth. "Thanks, Odair."

"Annie says hello." He stares at the watery entrance thinking about the woman that lives next door.

"You should tell her." I reach over laying a hand on his larger one giving it a squeeze for reassurance, but my words make him look so much more lost.

"What if she doesn't understand?"

"She understands you, that's enough for her and more than most can say." He nods knowing that I'm right, then turns back to the slow moving pool.

After the 64th games fourteen year old victor Finnick was threatened that if he didn't work for the Capitol his family would get the short straw. For the past ten years he's been collecting Capitol data to ensure its downfall. Though this gave him a high standing compared to most victors and citizens it also breaks him. He can't be the man that he thinks Annie deserves, he's a used, and cheap man. What he doesn't realize is he's Annie's strong hold and she's his.

Just like Beetee and Wiress the two victors met in the games, Annie a tribute and Finnick one of her mentors. Though Annie had little to nothing special about her the now ninteen year old had a feeling about her, but that feeling was a sign for the inevitable. The games weren't as forgiving as they were for Finnick, the longer she stayed in the arena the more broken she became. It was the last straw when her partner, Marlin Finnegan, was beheaded. It tore the young mentor apart to see her loose herself. It was her superb swimming ability that saved her and brought the two back together.

After her return she moved into the house next to her mentor who at first couldnt even look her jn the eyes, feeling like her change was his fault. But as he watched her garden each day he became more intrigued. Finally after five months of watching her garden he carried over a rare potted plant he had found the last time he was in the Capitol. He says he eyes lit up like they did the first time she tried Capitol food. Ever since they have been each other's glue.

"How's fishing going?" He's been using his...contacts to gain information about the upper class of the Capitol and the games for over ten years. He wants it to end almost as much as I do.

"Poison." I nod for him to continue. "Snow hasn't been leaving the mansion because of poison. All those mysterious deaths over the years were because of our dear President. He puts poison in their drinks and then both he and the victim drink. The difference is he takes the antidote and the victim dies."

We had been suspecting the like for years, but we never had proof that the president did away with them. This was incredibly important.

"Why is he secluded if he keeps the antidote on him?"

"It doesn't heal him fully. Have you ever smelt blood when you're around him." I nod. "The poison leaves bloody ulcers in his mouth. He covers it up with the roses."

"That's why he sends so much time genetically altering his own roses."

"We need to get going." It's then I notice the water starting to rise to our ledge, the tide was coming in fast. I turn back to Finnick scanning his face, he's worried, but not about the water.

"Promise me you'll tell her." He turns back to me and I know I hit the nail on the head.

"I will...when the time is right." I shake my head, time is of the essence in the life of a victor, especially one so close to the Capitol.

"You don't want to have regrets." He stuffs his sugar cubes pouch back into his pocket taking my words in. "May the power be returned."

"May the truth be seen." He dives in first with amazing grace and in seconds he is gone through the entrance. Damn, I wish I could swim like that. I put my regulator back in my mouth and follow the victor just as the water fills the cavern.

* * *

 ** _Though Sam Claflin and Stef Dawson are admittedly gorgeous (I know, don't kill me) I just didn't see Finnick and Annie in the movie matching my views from the book._**

 ** _In the book Finnick is extremely attractive. So much so that Snow forced him to be a prostitute in the Capitol. Living in district four means sun, ocean and beaches so he must be tan. His hair is said to be bronze and eyes green. I always pictured him being strong and tall too._**

 ** _Annie isn't a redhead either, in fact she had deep black hair and blue-green eyes. I felt she must have been smaller, daintier, not as much as Katniss, but as a career she was considered small. And she's not necessarily smoking hot like Finnick._**

 _ **R &R! Follow on Wattpad, Fanfiction and Quotev as Nightlover77**_

 _ **DECEMBER DANIELS**_


	6. Chapter Six: District 5

_"Electricity is really just organized lightning."_

 **\- George Carlin**

* * *

My hair is dark this time, black as the night help up in a the loop of a baseball cap. My lips are full, but hold little color much like my porcelain skin from the amount of makeup that sits over them. My figure appears lithe and is clothed in one of the average baggy, navy blue, worker's uniform belonging to district 5's mechanics. My feet give me an extra inch from the large tan work boots that cover them and my eyes are a smoldering blue that overlook the scenery.

The green fields to the South held hundreds of white wind turbines that reached for the sky turning the air over with their metal arms. The black fields to the North were covered in large solar panels adjusting angles with the setting sun. The gravel fields to the East were covered by the main metallic power towers. The orange sky reflects off the metal sending lights in varying directions. The West is the only direct a field does not rest instead there lies a river, clear and fast flowing strong until it is stopped then rushed through the monstrous concrete dam.

District Five was covered with every type of electricity conductor known to man. The dam has been in use since the very first Hunger Games. It was built to establish a source of power for the arena and power the growing Capitol. The water rages through the outlets making the rush of water the only sound in nearly a mile. The day is gone and the lights of the dam illuminate the water and top of the dam, that's where I stand now over looking the entire district, waiting.

"Am I late?" The soft voice makes me turn away from the side to face her. District 6 is the wealthiest non-career district and even better off than district 4. That being said Milly was raised in a well off family and giving every opportunity for a proper education and easy life before the games.

"I was early." Porter Millicent Tripp hobbles closer.

This is the usual meeting place, even though her age and previous spinal injury was catching up with her she was too stubborn to meet somewhere closer to home. The older woman was made of an unbreakable material.

"How have you been?"

"Half more than decent. I dare say this look suits, Genera Foster."

"Well, Miss Foster, I brought the schematics you insisted upon. They were not easy to come by, so make copies cause I cannot get anymore."

Porter Millicent Tripp was a woman of great feats. She survived the games as a victor with a severe spinal injury. She spent months in recovery after the games, before her victory tour giving her the honor of being the only victor to have spent the home time in recovery. They repaired her spine, vut when such a major part of your body is critically injured there is no way to fully repair it. For her tour she had to wear a large brace and to this day when there is strain she has to put it back on.

I reach out taking the dam blueprints from the older victor and look them over. This is the head system analyst's schematic. It has every part detailed with specific information about every part of the dam, large as the walls or small as the screws it was all here on this fragile peice of paper. In time we'll be using these to make a great boom.

"Have you assessed the sheet yet?" Despite leaving school after the games and not needing to work, Milly spent her free time educating herself on the structure of the district and the workings of their tools.

"Yes, the wall is incredibly stable we did a phenomenal job in the construction and internal works."

She sounds so proud and I can't blame her, the dam was a sign of as strength for her district. But on this mission it was a sign of Capitol power in the districts and just like that power, its got to go.

"I'm sure. I've heard it's a thing of beauty on the inside." Her face turns to me, but her eyes are in another time.

"My parents were babies when the dam was built, my grandparents generation were the ones to invent hydroelectricity. It may be close to three quarters of a century old, but this dam still powers the arena and most or all of the Capitol. It'll be a sad day to see her go."

There was history, but in this process we are making history too. And if there's one thing I am sure about the nation's future is that history will be made again on the chosen day, but history can never be made the same way twice. It may seem harsh now, but in the years post plan this district's coming generations will have a new story to tell surrounding the dam and their grandparents. One that will hopefully give them a longer childhood and a brighter future.

"When it comes to that the day will be grim, but a beautiful reminder to the Capitol and Panem's citizens."

"Sometimes I get lost in the past." Now her eyes come into focus and her chocolate iris warms as her lips quirk to a smile.

"The past is good, it's what made us who we are today." That could be said for just about everyone who is joining this cause. "Just don't stay in it too long, it can be hard to return to the present."

She nods and stares off into the distance again. This time I dont interrupt her, instead I join her overlooking the beautiful three distant fields in the twilight. Though instead of concentrating on the scene infront of me scenes of the past fill my thoughts. We stand until the sun sinks from view and the moon begins to rise.

"Milly, it's late. Can I walk you home?" The woman doesnt look at me as I speak continuing to stare into nothingness.

"No, need I think I'm going to stay here awhile." Her voice is wistful and I know the battle is won before the argument ever began.

"May the power be returned."

"May the truth be seen." I slowly back away from the wall. "Farewell, Milly."

"And you, Genera Foster." My steps are silent as I scurry off the wall and disappear into the darkness.

* * *

 _ **Porter Millicent Tripp won the 38th Hungers held in Panem. She walked away with a gaunt neck brace that she had to where during her victory tour.**_

 _ **R &R! Follow me on Wattpad, Quotev and Fanfiction!**_

 _ **DECEMBER DANIELS**_


	7. Chapter Seven: District 6

_"What's unique about transportation is that it's the one function that repeats itself throughout the supply chain."_

 **\- John Murphy**

* * *

Clanging rings from the boiler room as the steel workers pound the red metal repeatedly to the intended shape. The smell of rubber and metal are a homey scent to all of district 6 citizens. The reeving of multiple engines guides my in the direction of the trial strips. The transportation district has three testing strips.

The first is a multi surface field made specifically for hovercrafts. The ground pulls away to reveal tar, sand, dirt and water with each new level allowing the makers to test the way the anti gravity mechanism affects it's surroundings. With each different field the hovercraft affects them in different ways. For tar the surface is sometimes heated up after hovering for a long period of time. The sand is blown slightly in a circle right before the hovercraft lands. Water is the newest slide they are testing. For years when a hovercraft flew over water the antigravity air would part the water in a circle while hovering and a lined path behind when flying over. The district is working towards fixing that draw back now. Dirt is ideal for landing it doesn't warm as much as the tar and it doesn't catch like the sand or separate like water.

The second testing strip is a tar mat that stretches for nearly a mile. The length allows the test drivers to hit high speeds with motorcycles, luxury cars, peacekeeper vehicles, and extras. Next to the tar strip is also untamed land that follows the mule long tar to test the all terrain vehicles.

The third is a stretch of track that goes on for a few miles. This is where the cab's controls are tested separately then with the train cars testing alignment and overall build. The trains are run for nearly a day in total for the tests and then lifted into the Capitol tracks where the entire machine in built together. This usually goes on at night because the speed train is less likely to come by.

I'm on my way to the second testing strip now to see the district's best motorcycle mechanic, Hemi Carr.

Tires squeak as a black sport touring motorcycle glides fast over the pavement skidding in a circle to stop. The rider's identity is concealed by the personalized riding gear. The man's large shoulders are further bulked by the layers of an old distorted and remade peacekeeper suit. Rumors tell the story that he had fought during the rebellion in the dark days. He's said to be well over ninety and wears this suit to remind everyone of his viscous actions as a young man.

In truth he is only in his mid fifties having been born well into the Hunger Game years. That doesn't make him unfeeling to the situation by any means. He had to go through the fear of being the name picked for sixteen years as well, he was just never picked, like his children. Anyone with a mind could tell his children were targeted by the Capitol when year after year all four of his offspring were chosen and thrown into the game. Only one survived as a victor.

His leg swings over the bike now standing on two feet remaining to hold it up until a younger man come to take it away. They have a short conversation then the young man rolls the bike to the packing area. The older man reached to his all black peacekeeper helmet pulling it from his head and resting it under his arm.

"Good ride, Hemi." The man whips around at my usual greeting.

Despite having just taken off his helmet his hair is still covered by the ever present black beanie to help hide his growing baldness. His icy blue eyes shine against his wind burned raw skin that turned his skin to a leather tears ago. The bottom half of his face is obstructed by a full beard of white and orange. His top lip is home to a bushy orange mustache that rises slightly on the sides. His large body, though covered by his all black peacekeeper gear is colored with tattoo after tattoo of the memories he lost.

"You've been gone too long, Hotshot." His mustache twitches as his smile tries to take up his entire face. Hemi takes giant steps until he is grabbing my body to his in a long, tight, hug. After a minute we let go and he becomes stone again. "What's the deal?"

"Our place?" He nods and we head further off site to the old abandoned runway nearby.

The strip is a sun worn tar with countless arrows that were used to guide plans. Hemi walks to the right and pops a squat on the old plane that we've been visiting for a while and looks to me.

"Are you here to see me or on buisness?"

"Usual stopping." I stare at his reaction he nods then looks down trying to hide the disappointment all over his face.

"So, what's your name this time?"

"Clio Anderson." It my turn to look down, not being able to feel his downtrodden expression.

"Well, Clio, let's get down to business." He claps his thighs and sits up straight.

"How are the hovercrafts coming?"

"Bradley's programming a new one as we speak."

"How many are we at?"

"Three."

"That's amazing."

"You said you wanted them done A.S.A.P."

"You're doing more than I thought could be achieved."

"Bradley's the best."

"Guess he hasn't changed much."

"You should go see him and Turbo."

"I'm here on buisness."

"Doesn't mean you can't take a break."

He's right in a sense. I can't remember the last time I did something for me and not for Rosamund, Lace, Terra, Digit, Coventina, Genera, Clio and all the others.

"When this **is** over I'll have all the time in the world."

"You never know if you'll make it out, live your life. You're apart of a great cause, but at the end it you don't want to have regrets."

He knows me and that gives me comfort, but also a feeling of loss. I'm leaving again.

"May the power be returned."

"May the truth be seen. Keep it in mind, Hotshot."

"Will do, old man."

* * *

 _ **So Hemi and Clio are close, but how close?**_

 _ **R &R and Follow!**_

 _ ** _DECEMB_ ER DANIELS**_


	8. Chapter Eight: District 7

_"She'll never win any awards for kindness, but she certainly is gutsy or crazy."_

 **\- Katniss Everdeen**

* * *

The district might only be the eighth largest in population, but trees and factories require a large space to grow and produce so the entire district is considered one of the largest. He fields are sorted by age and breed of tree. There are hard woods, soft woods and nursery's for the production of luxury trees.

My eyes are the same color as the pines surrounding me and my hair is a deep brown falling in messy ringlets to my waist. My skin is a natural tan littered with small freckles on my well defined cheeks and over my button nose. My jaw is heart shaped and slightly dainty, my lips are pink with the bottom lip slightly larger than the top.

The pines soar high above blocking out the light with its thick needles only seen at the top. The the lines of trunks are circles by weedy grass that lay a thin bed for a soft landing. For several feet to the trunk rises bare as the lower branches have been chopped to allow easier access to roads and trees. This area is middle aged at only eighty years not reaching its full height yet. There are others that they have started harvesting that were planted well before the first rebellion. Dirt paths between the trees are bear of people only covered with few branches that keep falling from above.

"Coming down!" I jump out of the way as a large branch hits the ground where I once stood. My eyes follow the trunk to the woman who lounges sixty feet up with a vicious smirk on her face.

"Too scared to take me out directly, Johanna, just like your games?" I raise one eyebrow and chuckle as her face becomes fowl.

"Don't even talk-" I cut her off before she can say something she shouldn't.

"Wren Cote."

"Right, Wren Cote." She says it slow and mocking. "You some kind of song bird or something?"

I roll my eyes at the victor and start to scale the tree climbing like a bear. I hug the trunk pulling with my arms and pushing with my feet until I can grasp each branch to heave my body up higher and higher like a monkey. I finally reach my destination and sit on a branch below her.

"What are you some kind of spider monkey?" My words come out with some laughter with a smirk as she scoffs moving her eyes from the tree tops to me.

"So, another visit. How's our beloved Panem looking?" She snears everytime she mentions anything to do with the corrupt hierarchy.

"Things are over schedule, these people are good." Our group was chosen for specific reasons and they're proving to be the best choices in both knowledge and heart.

"You hope." She smirks then looks down to her hands picking the dirt from her nails.

"No, I know." At my tough tone she looks back up, not at all shocked with my attitude. "They are giving up everything."

"Or they could look like they are." She's so smug it makes me shake in fury.

Then I think over her words. Is there a possibility someone is faking? I could not believe that. They are fighting for the same thing I am. She doesn't know these people personally, but me, I've known some of these allies for years.

"What do you know?" I climb up another branch so we are level.

"Augustus." That one word makes my heart still in frozen fear.

"No." I shake my head. "He wouldn't."

"You never let me finish. He's been inquiring about you."

That's not even close to the real matter at hand, but my blood begins to build and my slow heart in rage. That man needs to learn when to mind his own business. But even if he's curiosity could ruin everything, it makes my heart flutter. I shake my head, if anyone finds me I'm as good as dead.

"Damn it! How'd you find out?"

"Your friends Nuts and Volts found me online. Tell them once was enough, I don't want to talk to them again." I roll my eyes at her attempt to rile me.

"Their names are Beetee and Wiress."

"Well they sounded pretty-" she whistles the tone most used to signal crazy.

"Mason..." I growl out. Johanna's hands come out in a harmless motion.

"Okay, okay... You need to look into some of your new additions." I know that's all I'll get from her about that for now. "The people are growing here, they liked your plan."

"Good, then we're a go when the time comes."

"They're with you." They weren't with me, they were with the district citizens who fight for what's right.

"How many are we talking?"

"Just my crew, but more will come when we take out those Capitol bastards." Johanna nods in the direction of people walking down the paths to our tree. I can only assume some of this group were her own lumber crew.

I turn back to the lumber Jill, "Spread the word."

"Only as I see fit." Always needs to in control, but she would do what she sees is best. And Johanna does know more than she lets on.

"May the power be returned."

"May the truth be seen."

I let my grip of the branch slip and I race towards the ground landing with a hard thump. The victor's group was waiting below and now at the same height I nod to them.

"Glad that you joined the anti-Snow club." The oldest lumberjack shakes my outstretched hand fierce and friendly, but gives me a look filled with amusement in his eyes.

"Might wanna look at changing your name, haters only last so long. But rebels for national inclusion will be like an axe to a tree, never failing."

I think it over and come to the conclusion that maybe...this was the inclusion in Panem. And two, boy does district 7 really live with lumber on their minds.

* * *

 _ **Oops, I did it again. Yes, Johanna is supposed to have short, spiked, brown hair, far set eyes and a feirce, but intuitive attitude. I picture Winona Ryder when she was younger as Johanna.**_

 _ **R &R**_

 _ **DECEMBER DANIELS**_


	9. Chapter Nine: District 8

_"I love the way textiles so often tell a story, conveying a history of the maker or capturing a moment in time that can be treasured forever in the intricate craftsmanship of these timeless, precious pieces."_

 **\- Kit Kemp, Kit Kemp a living space**

* * *

The whirring of sewing machines, sliding of weavers tables, and needles of all sizes fill the room. District 8 is the home of textiles. The upholstery that decorates cars, chairs and the president's throne was made here. The rugs and curtains from Capitol to seam, were made here. The peacekeeper uniforms, sadly, are made here. And the very clothes on your back, yes, they were made here too.

From sun up till sun down workers piece together the textiles that improve our lives, but the life of a district 8 citizen is not as glamorous as the textiles they produce. Citizens live in tenement housing yet another way for the Capitol to save space to build more factories. The brick buildings were run down, unlivable by citizen standards so it was most definitely unlivable by Capitol's as well. The center of the street separating the tenements were large piles that the people attached large clothes lines to on each floor and room. Though the clothes were never fresh after a sit outside, they were dry and that's more than they could complain about. The air smelt of industrial fumes and clouded the sky a murky grey. The areas free of structure were layed with concrete and not a blade of grass could be seen, most people had never seen a natural outdoor setting. Sure they had to have trees, but they come packaged and mutated from district 7 to filter more carbon dioxide than normal.

At the moment I am in factory fourteen where the production of blankets is key. They make every kind from quilts to knitted to fleece, this is the factory that helps keep us warm. I sit as a sewing machine wearing a shirt that is pretty close to patchwork art. Even though they live in the place where making a new shirt would be more than doable, they don't get enough money. Patches on clothing is extremely common here, as well as the overalls I also wear. They are more durable and last longer than some of the more relaxed styles so the expensive price pays off later. My twin light ash brown braids dangle dangerously close to the foot of the needle as I sew the lace around a Capitol blanket. I scan my eyes around the room when a flash of a white apron and white arm strap turn my direction to the left. There's the medic.

I lean my hair closer to the machine until in feeds it in pulling my head closer and closer to the main structure. I open my mouth and begin to scream and cry as though my life was about to end. Which if this wasnt controlled I could lose my life and I wouldn't be the first. The machines close to me stop and the citizens jump into action working to free me a quickly and painlessly as possible. They first pull my body and left braid that's caught, but it doesn't budge then one of the older men grabs the shears used for thick fabrics and cuts my elbow length hair to my shoulder on one side. My body flys back with my rescuers and I turn to thank them through my tears.

"Tha-ank y-y-you!" My voice breaks and I try to catch my breath, but it just won't come to me. I begin to hyperventilate.

"Medic!" The old man with the shears screams out and the man in the white and red outfit runs to our aide.

He kneels at my broken down figure and stares into my eyes. "It's okay, you're going to be okay." He scoops me up then rushes to the infirmary. As we turn the corner I can here the peace keepers screaming at the works to get back to work, and even a whip lash hits flesh. I flinch, that was all for one plan.

The man sets me down on the cot in a secluded room for recovery. Then pulls a chair to sit next to me.

"You made quite a scene this time. Wasn't the idea to go unseen?"

"I've over played nurse and chatty worker, it was time for something new. And nobody will be expecting me back." My shoulders shrug as he slowly nods his hand.

"Your hair suits you now, you're never consistent long." He pulls one braid the reaches out to mess with the loose hair on my shoulder.

"Needs to be fixed though." I reach into his apron pulling out his medical scissors and walking to the sink amd mirror in this solo room. I trim away as the real conversation starts. "Find the person that was hit, apologize for me. And if they are trustworthy invite them in." He gets up from the chair to stand behind me in the mirror where I see his face is clouded with disbelief.

"You sure?"

"They got an unneeded punishment because of me. Yes, I'm sure." He nods then looks at the left wall deep in thought.

"The suits are coming along nicely we are perfecting the one your gave us specific instructions for now."

"How is it possible for you to have them that far along?"

I got some help.

"Trustworthy help?"

"I do trust my wife, Miss..."

"Twyla Burton."

"Well, I trust her and Cecelia's something with a needle." I nod my head and he crosses his arms defensively.

"Alright, help is of course something we need. Just make sure you would trust them with your wife's life. Not your own, but your wife's." He nods fast.

Rodger Ackles is Cecelia Ackles husband. Cecelia was the winner of the 64th hunger games at seventeen. She later married Rodger and gave birth to three wonderfully bright children. Though I did try and keep her out of it for that reason, perhaps having her involved will calm her skittish husband's nerves.

I turn to face the man, my hair now fully cut and falling to me shoulders.

"May the power be returned."

"May the truth be seen." I squeeze his shoulder as I pass by and sneak out of yet another district.

* * *

 ** _Rodger Andrews the Victor Cecelia Larson's husband. They have three children together, two boys, the oldest a girl. He gets antsy when put on the spot, but that works in his marriage because Cecelia is the stronger one where as he is the more knowledgeable of their partnership._**

 ** _R &R and Follow!_**

 ** _DECEMBER DANIELS_**


	10. Chapter Ten: District 9

_"In every grain of wheat there lies hidden the soul of a star."_

 **\- Arthur Machen**

* * *

Grain, the golden waves of district 9 are planted by the citizens to sustain us. It's part of our cakes, rice, bread and so much more. Yet it is the fourth most impoverished district in Panem. Twelve factories take up the center of the district surrounded by scattered houses of richer folks and housing building for the rest. Right now more than half the district's children and wheat workers are in the fields sowing the natural winter wheat. It was planted now to grow about three inches then the snow will fall and it will be harvested in late July. Inside two of the factory is an indoor farm made specifically for the Capitol. It's mutations give the food a burst of flavour and take under two months to grow fully. Snow orders the district's to wait for the natural growth and the Capitol to be given the fast growing so they would have a consistent flow of grain and we would have to work more for little. But what else would be expected from Panem's adoring President.

At the moment I am in the front line, sowing the seeds of our new crop. The seeds are kept in a peice of cloth used as a sling over the shoulder. It isn't anything special and it certainly is not 100% beneficial to the workers. The strap was known for leaving rashes along the wearers neck and being so old it could snap if there was too much pressure applied. If that were to happen and the 'seeds of life' as Snow puts it, were to fall and become dirty you would loose your pay for the week or more.

Today my skin is ivory with a small beige freckle resting on my cheek under my left eye. My eyes are a dull grey that would smile when my mouth does and my hair is a pale blonde. My lips nearly match the color of my skin though they are slightly plump, my bottom one more so than my top. My chin has a cleft and my jaw is wide and sharp, though today I am muted and it blends in with district 9's citizens.

I wear grey cargo slacks that are large around my waist and a plain white tee-shirt with a light jacket to protect me from the coming winter air. Most people around me wear the same thing, all except Bran Miller. He wears a dull yellow shirt and khaki cargo pants with boots that keep him from muck and reinforces traction. His hair is dark and greying on the sides with eyes nearly identical to the soil in color and knowledge of years. He is the reason I'm here.

Miller is the head sower of district he's the one that plants, watches over, and then instructs through the grain's life. And that makes him the perfect person to carry out and lead my plan. I wait for him to come closer to me then I make my move.

"Lead sower Miller, it's urgent that I speak to you." He continues to walk, but I follow like a mosquito.

"And who are you?" His hands are clasped behind his back as he watches the seed fall in their respective row.

"Kasha Fields, Sir."

"Okay." He stops infront of me then nods for us to walk off the fields. "Continue as you are. When I return I will be checking over your rows." He guides us to the shaded resting area and motion for me to sit on one of the benches opposite him. "You've made me leave the fields, you know I don't like doing that."

"Yes, and I also know you will despise my plan."

"As long as my fields remain unharmed." His voice is controlled and calm only making me want to shy away. He catches on and breaks his stoic stance. "Oh, not my fields!"

"We want a portion of the Capitol grain burned. Claim short rations this year after that. Snow will claim most of our natural grain for the Capitol. Store the excess in several hidden locations for the distribution to the district's. The Capitol citizens will be filled with despair that we have to eat untampered grain, but they will continue to eat it until there is none left. Prices will sky rocket and the Capitol will not have something they want for once, giving them knowledge of the second rebellion."

"You're killing me here, Kasha." He puts his head in his hand, elbows resting on his thighs.

"I wouldn't ask this of you if it wasn't necessary." I place my hand on his shoulder for comfort and he raises his head to look at me sadly.

"Only the Capitol grain gets burned?" I nod my head.

"That's it. Do you have somewhere to keep the hidden grain?"

"There an old dilapidated silo that's hidden in the border trees of district 6. I fixed it up when the air began to smell worse of roses and blood. The inside is pristine, but the outside will make everyone over look it." We both looks towards the borders.

"I'm sorry that you have to do this, Bran. But you are the only man for the job."

"I understand the need. And it might just give me extra time I would be using to harvest to improve our own natural grain." His finally cracks a smile.

"May the power be returned."

"May the truth be seen."

* * *

 _ **Bran Miller is rounding middle age. He has earned his standing with the people and Capitol for being as chivalrous and knowledgeable as the olden day knights.**_

 _ **R &R and Follow!**_

 _ **DECEMBER DANIELS**_


	11. Chapter Eleven: District 10

_"Success is the sum of small efforts, repeated day in and day out."_

 **\- Robert Collier**

* * *

Manure was the common smell of district 10 being the livestock district. The land is green and rolling obstructed only by the occasional patch of trees for shade and farm buildings. Variations of farms were all over the district ranging from milking barns, slaughter houses, chicken sheds, horse stables, pig stys, sheep pastures, they had nearly every natural animal and a few not so natural. The not so natural were the reason for my visit today.

"Yah!" A whinny follows the shouted command.

I turn the corner of the unique barn. There is one human in sight, her hair is sandy blonde and eyes navy. She wears a tight brown three quarter sleeve top and black riding pants with brown riding boot. Her cheeks are colored deeply probably from leading the giant animal. The yellow spotted hybrid in the training ring, it's a Equnyx, a horse and cheetah hybrids. The body is formed as a horse, but the hoofs are paws for better grip, its piercing amber eyes with no iris, sharp carnivorous teeth. But don't let that get to you, they are usually extremely gentle. A Equnyx reaches speeds of nearly 100 mph with a rider and higher without.

"Circe Nox!" The woman turns from the beast to smile at me.

"You're back!" Her shout doesn't even startle the beast, it just snorts and turns to trot away as Circe releases it's rope and whispers, "I'll be right back."

She flys the distance between us and jumps in my arms. "Hello Circe."

Circe is one of the few allies I have known for years and because she has my total trust I tell exactly what I'll look like for my next visit. Today my hair is a bright strawberry blonde with an indigo eye. My skin is ivory with litters of freckles covering my face. My lips are thin and dark pink matching the bandana around my neck that will soon be moved to my head if this heat doesnt tire out soon. My shirt is loose and reminds me of the ones pirates would wear in the old stories. My pants are a black leggings making movement painless and my feet are covered with riding boots.

"I love your hair and those clothes!"

"You can have them when I'm done with them."

"Oh I couldn't."

"Yet you will."

"You must miss the old you, I know I do."

"I just look different."

"You are much different than the twelve year old you."

"Aren't all adults supposed to be different from the child them."

"Not so different. What's your name this time?"

"Haley Kent. How is your father."

"Good and yours?"

"He's enjoying his new toys." We smirk at eachother.

"I'm sure." She giggles out.

"How is Taz?"

"She's learning well. Would you like to ride her?"

"Is she still to be mine?"

"Of course!"

Then absolutely. We make our way over to the ring where Taz is staring me down with an angry glare. "I know you're angry for not visiting sooner, but I had things to do."

Taz huff's and scrapes her clawed paws across the dirt then she charges. She runs right at me, but not quite at top speed. I move to the side quickly and grab at her fur to pull my body onto her back.

"Haha! Good girl." I pat her back and she trots happily around the ring.

"She won't let anyone else ride her." Circe leans against the railings with her arms crossed at her chest.

"That's because no one else can handle her." I laugh as Taz jumps a little dance of excitement. "Do you think she'll always recognize me?"

"Her senses are far more acute then ours or even some mutations. She should always know its you under all that makeup."

"Good, I think I would miss her if she didn't." I rub down her short black mane as she leans into my touch. "The jabberjays are stationed and they are working brilliantly, it was a good idea."

"Good, but we both had a say in this one." I continue to trot Taz as we talk. "How are our new Capitol mutations coming?"

"The lizards are following commands after the key words is given."

"And what is the word?" She gets shy and when the word slips from her lips I know why.

"Saffron." I shake my head in disappointment.

"Oh, Circe."

"It had to be something you wouldn't forget." She defends herself, but it means nothing.

"It's been long, maybe I will forget." My shoulders slump and she comes closer from the gate.

"One never forgets something that important." I take her words with a grain of salt storing it deep for later.

"What about the pyrearchs?"

"The fire isn't consuming them and they are gaining more control of the flames and internal compass."

"Any other recruits?"

"Well...you remember Mink Sable?"

"The boy that used to bully you yet you drooled all over him?" We both were bullied while growing up for nearly all the same reasons.

"Same one. Well, he's changed and well he, um, he asked me to be his."

"And you said yes." My words are slow as I look over her face for answers.

"Well ya. He's different. He is one of the district leaders and has his own farm, you'd like him now."

"Sure. Just be careful."

"Oh please. You're buddy buddy with the Capitol favorite son, the cavalier career." I narrow my eyes, but that was exactly what she was waiting for. "See! You like him and I bet he likes you too."

"Circe..." I whine.

"Okay, but this conversation is not over."

"Alright..." Taz Huff's again and starts getting antsy. "You got some free time?"

"I can make some."

"Let's go for a ride." I click my tongue and dig my heels into her side making her sprint and jump over the railing.

"That's not fair!" Circe throws her hands in the air shouting.

"You know I never play fair!" I look over my shoulder laughing as she whistles for Hazard, her own Equursus which is a bear horse hybrid, who runs out of the barn right to Circe who jumps on quickly and starts the chase.

"I'm gonna get you!"

"I don't think so Farmer Nox!"

* * *

 _ **Circe knows a lot about our chameleon, but how does she really know so much? And why are Circe Nox and Haley Kent so close?**_

 _ **R &R!**_

 _ **DECEMBER DANIELS**_


	12. Chapter Twelve: District 11

_"It'll be spring soon. And the orchards will be in blossom. And the birds will be nesting in the hazel thicket. And they'll be sowing the summer barley in the lower fields... and eating the first of the strawberries with cream. Do you remember the taste of strawberries?"_

 **\- Samwise Gamgee, The Return of the King**

* * *

District 11 is like a fairytale for anyone who takes it in shallowly. The green of the grass and plants. Rainbows of colors from the fruits, vegetables, and few herbal flowers on the tree trunks. The sky is always either sapphire or grey on watering days. It is a surreal landscape until the workers come. Their naturally brown skin is darkened further from the hours spent in the fields picking the fresh produce only the rich and Capitol receive. If by chance one bitter berry found its way to a starving workers mouth punishment was inevitable, the peacekeepers made sure of that, I'm making sure of that.

Today was a day I will banish from my memories.

My skin is a smooth chocolate made entirely from the Capitol's realistic makeup. My eyes are black surrounded by black short, but thick lashes. My lips were full and naturally dark offsetting my white teeth. The black shoulder length straight hair is held back in a low ponytail. Today my appearance doesn't matter because everything that would stand for Maple Thorne is hidden beneath a heavy duty peacekeeper uniform. This was a first for me. I had always tried to be part of the people, see how they have to live, but I had never ever been part of the aggressors and to be one in one of the most obedient peacekeeper district is chilling.

It is a regular Wednesday morning to the district. The citizens make their way from the housing to the check in point as we ride there in tanks. We sit on the edges all four of us and a fifth drives and scans the citizens for any sign of attitude change.

"Did you see Calla yesterday?"

"Who could miss her? I think my eyes are glued to her more than anything else."

"Oh man I would just love to..." I tune their disgusting words out until we reach the check point and climb through the roof to exit.

The check point has thirty lines to wait for access to the thirty large showers. I watch a child of only five jump for the chained handle, but her fingers don't even graze it. Her mother reaches over and pulls the handle holding on with her other hand to a baby no more than six months old that's strapped to her chest with what looks very similar to the slings from district 10. The girl giggles as the water covers her and she spins and jumps in the puddle from the clogged drain. That's how childhood should be.

Everyone has their turn drenching their bodies and walking to their respective field. The water doesn't stay on their bodies long. Once the sun rises to full height the water is evaporated leaving their clothes are stiff. Then their deep skin soaks in the heat drenching their clothes with a new wetness. The feeling is not something I like to remember.

The workers have to go through the check in at the beginning and end of the day to be marked for attendance and showered. The Capitol requires the fully clothed quick wash of all citizens so their grim doesn't come into contact with anything that will be shipped to them. At the end of a tiring day all they want to do is go home, eat and sleep, but they have to wash so the workers can't do their own experiments to mess with the produce.

I walk on the outside of the group the small family is a part of as they make their way to the plum field. This field much like the others is about seven acres of fast growing and enhanced fruit for the Capitol and the other three acres are of natural season grown fruit for the districts. The peacekeeper at the front of the group blows his whistle in three long drawls dismissing the group. The guard gives a tap to the slow ones with his baton and they rush to the others.

"Watch them run!" The leader turns to the other two guards by me and they stay at the main road, I walk deeper.

The trees are larger than they were a hundred years ago they now reach forty feet increasing production. The larger bodies stay on the ground receiving the sacs of fruit. Medium bodies like the young mother are on the lower, more sturdy branches. The smaller bodies, all children are reaching to the top branches, the young girl of five is one of the few at the top. She is unafraid of the distance she stands from the ground jumping from branch to branch with a smile on her face.

The day continues in a tense, but calm silence and I walk the rows taking me talk notes of every word said by peacekeeper and worker alike until a whistle near the original tree sounds. Shouting and begging proceeds them and I take off running. It draws some curious eyes, but I could careless at this moment. As I get closer the screams break my heart.

"No, she's young! She doesn't understand!" It's the young mother. Her voice is filled with anxiety.

"You are bred from birth to work the trees, she knows the rules by now." I leave the paths and sprint under the trees at this point I just needed to get there before anything was to play out.

"But she's hungry!" A whip splits the air and shrieks from the young girl silence the growing crowd.

"She broke the law." He whips her. . . a child.

The scene is in front of me now. The mother is held back by what seems like multiple friends. The girl lies on her side in the dirt with her knees to her chest and blood dripping down her back. The peacekeeper raises his whip again and the mothers cries grow to screams.

"Stop! Oh please stop! I'll do it!" The child in her sash screams in protest with it's mother and the whip flies through the air.

"Peacekeeper." I stand in the way my suit absorbing the blunt force that would have hit the child. The punisher stares at me and I can assume under his uniform he is more than angry.

"Step aside."

"I come from the career districts and I'm sure as you can imagine punishments few and far between. But we do have other ways of dealing with this, unique ways." My voice is deep, manly, from the voice changer and holds a sinister tone. During this the mother is released and she moves to care both of her sobbing children kneeling to hold them.

"You wish to be the punisher." His hands land across his chest.

"I must know the fault first." I gesture to the family.

"She ate from the Capitol plums." I bet it was the best damn thing she's ever tasted.

"Well, then she deserves a Capitol punishment." The man lifts his face shield to show his smirk of approval.

"Do as you see fit." He steps back with a grin splitting his face.

I step forward staring the family down, "She'll be coming with me now."

"No! You can't take her! I won't let you!" Her face is damp with tears that pool in her eyes and flood down her cheeks.

I kneel and begin to pull the girl away while leaning close enough for the mother to see my face I move the shield slightly up. "Cerise, may the truth be seen."

My voice is back to normal without the helmets shade and becomes recognizable. Cerise's eyes widen and she nods scooting back letting me take her daughter who still sobs and screams for her mother, but curls tight in pain.

This is not how a child should live. This is not how a human being should live.

I turn and leave the fields to give the child a punishment to the knowledge of the peacekeepers. But to the young mother, an ally to our cause, I am soothing, tending and feeding her daughter as the mother never could. She would be returned at the end of the day, but for one day she would enjoy the luxury of the prosperous.

* * *

 _ **So this chapter was pretty intense. Our chameleon was one of the enemies in a district, a peacekeeper, and had to watch and play part in a little girl's whipping.**_

 _ **R &R!**_

 _ **DECEMBER DANIELS**_


	13. Chapter Thirteen: District 12 Part One

_"You've got about as much charm as a dead slug."_

 **\- Haymitch to Katniss (The Hunger Games)**

* * *

Kids run down the beaten dirt road laughing and kicking up dust. Mother's are outside using wash bins to clean the coal off the fabrics. The Seam though at a loss of money is a place of community. It is like patchwork with the Capitol's rags, even so it still makes a beautiful garment.

My hair is a deep ash brown held back in a low messy bun with loose locks framing my heart face. My eyes are the classic seam grey lined by long dark wispy last. My nose is small, but slightly arched up. My lips are small as well the top more so than the bottom. My clothes are all dull in color slightly more pigmented by the black coal dust. My shirt is a simple grey v-neck short sleeved top that's covered by a dark grey pull over sweater. My legs are covered by beaten, torn blue jeans that flare at the bottom nearly hiding my black chucks.

"You're it." A small redhead taps my arm and runs away giggling the whole way.

"I'm gonna get you!"

I drop my basket of herbs and take off running. The girl squeals looking over her shoulder and running towards the rest of the group. The group disperses and the the children run in circles taunting me.

"Na na!" The original child pops out from behind one of the worn electrical poles, her face full of joy.

"Oh no you don't!" I sprint and this time she screams making a run before looking, that was her mistake. The child trips over a milk crate and falls to the ground. Almost immediately she starts to cry and I rush over and pick her up.

"Shh, shh, let me see." She moves her left arm away from her body to show a gash down. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Posy. Hawthorne." She sniffles out.

"Alright lets take you to get these boo boos cleaned." I scoop her up and stand to come face to chest.

"Where are you taking her?" I follow the chest to see an angry face I wasn't expecting to see for another few months.

"Gus?" His face mirrors my own shock.

"Lace?"

"It's actually Fern Jay."

"It's good to see you."

"You too, where is the healers?"

The Everdeen lady is the best.

"Well..."

"Ya! Follow me." Agustus first takes off at a pace my legs can't match. When he notices he falls back and lays a hand on my back to slowly guide me in the correct direction.

"How you doin'?" Posy nods and snuggles deeper into my chest.

Her cries shrink to hiccups and her eyes get heavy. Her body slowly becomes dead weight and I shift her around.

"Want me to take her?" His eyes look from the sleeping girl to my face and at first im going to say no then I realize how numb my arms are.

"Okay." He beds down scooping her up to carry her as he would a baby. And with the size difference she looks that small. "What are you doing here."

"My mother's family lives here."

"Is she from district 12?"

He nods stepping over a fallen tree then reaching out with the hand not cradling Posy to offer me some balance. "She is the baker's sister."

"You're Mr. Mellark's nephew?"

"Uh oh." He smirks and I feel frozen in the moment. "Is there something you don't know?"

Never mind, "If you weren't holding Posy right now..."

"You'd what, hit me?"

"You -" I start to glare at him, but timing seems to save him.

"We're here." He smirks victoriously and for a second I feel bad for what I was about to do.

"Would you take her in?" His smile drips and I turn away slightly while wrapping my arms around my body like I'm cold.

"You're leaving." The playful life is gone from his voice I turn back to him.

"You know it's-" He cuts me off while staring hard straight ahead

"Part of the job. Yeah I know, but sometimes you have to be you and not these personas." His words hurt and I almost can't swallow the truth.

"Gus, please."

"Listen to me for once."

"I always listen to you."

"Go. I'll see you soon."

I turn away to go to my real destination, but I'm grabbed by the wrist and turned around. Gus pulls me to his chest and lays a soft yet soulful kiss on my lips. There were no fireworks, on the contrary I felt something better. I felt real for the first time in years. My left hand finds its way to his hair and I thread my fingers through his blonde locks. My right hand caresses his neck close to the same spot his free hand holds my face to his. He backs off slowly and I open my eyes to see his are still shut and remain so for a few counts. When they do open, his eyes show so many different emotions, true commitment and trust being the most prominent.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't hold myself back this time." He reaches down and squeezes my relaxed hand at my side then turns to bring the still sleeping and most probably sore child into the medic's house.

"This time?" That's what he had said. 'I couldn't hold myself back this time.' He had thought of kissing me during our other meetings. My heart flutters then sinks, he also apologized. "He thinks I don't feel the same."

This is why I always end up alone.

* * *

 _ **He kissed her and thinks she doesn't like him back. Truth be told maybe she likes him more than she lets on.**_

 ** _R &R_**

 _ **DECEMBER DANIELS**_


	14. Chapter Fourteen: District 12 Part Two

_"A diamond is a chunk of coal that is made good under pressure."_

 **\- Henry A. Kissinger**

* * *

The Victor's village is more ominous than any other place in district 12. Each house is kept in relatively good shape, they have a housekeeper caring for the yards and interiors. There are ten houses, eight never used and only one still being lived in. It's at that one house where I stand now pounding on the door.

"Open up!"

Glass knocks and garbage crunches with every step the man grumbles to the door. The handles jiggles and flys open to reveal the worn down ever grumpy face of Haymitch Abernathy.

"What do you want?"

"That's no way to treat a friend, Haymitch." I slide through the crack that he doesn't cover and step into his entrance hall taking in the mess. "I like what you've done with the place."

"Oh shut up." He closes the door and I bend down to pick up some empty bottles.

"These visits to your district mame me feel like I'm your maid." I grasp a dirty blanket and place the garbage in it to be disposed of later.

"If you do a good job..." He strides into the dining room without a catch. This is the only room that remained slightly clean, seeing how he does everything, but sleep in the living room.

"Yeah yeah." I pull out a chair on the left side of the cherry table. When I sit a cloud of dust falls from the small cushion. "You're getting better at this whole acting drunk thing."

"Who's to say I'm not really drunk?"

Haymitch was one of the first to join the mission being lead by his recently pasted mentor, Grimm Garfield. Grimm dragged Haymitch in kicking and screaming, but with the words revenge and Capitol in the same sentence he started coming to the meetings regularly. my guess is he still was at a cliff with maisley's death. He attended every meeting until Grimm died and the meetings became his own.

He drank originally and made people view him as a drunk, but over the years his tolerance grew and alcohol did little to give him an escape making him drink heavily or only for taste, either way he was addicted to drinking.

"The smell of the placibo I gave you backs me up."

The placibo was only used to quench his thirst and wasn't even close to alcohol.

"Alright kid." Yup, he's irritable from not having a drink. "Have you heard anything about the reaping?"

He asked me this every year. He needed to know who was going to die because in 12 nobody ever comes back. That's the second reason he drinks, he feels like he sent the kids to their deaths. I think back to the Capitol streets and answer him.

"Only that they have some new tricks up there sleeves. The electronic posters in the Capitol are saying that these games will be the most interesting ever!"

"And we can be assured that these year will be the year?" This will be the year for change.

"I've looked into the list and the names that will be pulled are something of a stand out, they did their research. The new mutts are more than enough to make this years game...unforgettable."

"What do they have this year?" His voice thickens in discomfort.

Talk about mutts always put him on edge, but who could blame him. He went into the games fearing for his life from other children then finds out mutations are running loose. Haymitch's games were the first to introduce mutts to the arena.

"A wolf hybrid." Short and sweet, maybe he wouldn't ask further.

"Mixed with what?" His tone is rushed, I knew it was a useless hipe. I meet his gaze fully and speak in a meek tone.

"Humans." He drops his head into his hands for several minutes before looking up again.

"I've been hopin' that one year, just one year, I wouldn't have to send a kid to their death."

"There is still a chance."

"And it gets slimmer all the longer the Capitol has free time!" He stands and shouts to the cieling.

"We'll end this, Haymitch." My words do little to calm him.

"They need to feel it. When we get them we put their kids in these killing games."

"You don't mean that."

"I do."

"No, we want to end this...evil and bring us all into a better time. You're a part of the solution." He sits back down.

"The gold is nearly complete, the plans are being prepared, and the numbers are rising. This is it."

"Do you know the names?"

"A boy of sixteen named Peeta. He's the baker's son. And a new contestant to the draw, Primrose Everdeen."

"Another twelve year old."

"Only for a moment. The Capitol believes her older sister is very protective of her."

"Age?"

"Sixteen."

"She's a child too."

"A child with skills pasted from her miner father and healer mother."

"There's a chance."

"More than that, there's a plan. May the power be returned."

"May the truth be seen."

"Now what should I clean first?"

"The bedroom is a mess."

"I don't want to be too scared, I'll go there last." I walk away from the grumbling man with a chuckle and set to work for my second job yelling one last time over my shoulder.

"Haymitch, if I'm going to be your maid I better be getting paid!"

* * *

 _ **Once again some of the characters were changed in the movie or not even seen!**_

 _ **Madge Undersee the blonde, Gale hated, sweet, mayor's daughter. Madge was also the one to give the pin to Katniss when they were saying goodbyes in the justice building.**_

 _ **Haymitch is meant to be a brunette with grey eyes, the seam look. He was once attractive, but the alcohol has kind of taken over. Though the shadow of looks are still there.**_

 _ **Peeta has dishwater blonde hair, blue eyes, largish muscles from manual labor and he is of medium height. He is also sixteen.**_

 _ **Katniss is supposed to be petitenot, quite starved because of the food she caught from hunting, but not well fed either. She also has straight dark hair, olive skin, grey eyed sixteen year old seam girl. (I couldn't deal with the fact that Peeta's height was right, but Katniss was like 5'9". She is shorter than him people!)**_

 _ **R &R and Follow!**_

 _ **DECEMBER DANIELS**_


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